


Small World

by nacseo_sope



Category: TWICE (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: I Don't Even Know, Introversion, Park Jimin (BTS) Is a Sweetheart, Platonic Relationships, Soft Park Jimin (BTS)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 06:58:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19824907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nacseo_sope/pseuds/nacseo_sope
Summary: Park Jimin discovers the world beyond his own.





	Small World

At seven o'clock in the morning, a twenty-five year old man named Park Jimin woke up. Throwing the covers back, he got up, made his bed and went to the bathroom, feeling refreshed after exactly nine hours of sleep. He stepped on the bathroom scales, his weight coming in at sixty-five kilograms, as it always did. He brushed his teeth, washed his face and combed his beige-blonde hair. He noticed that the top layer was getting a little bit too long — it was supposed to fall exactly just below his eyes. The hair underneath ought to have a trim, too. But it was okay — he had already planned to trim his hair and dye it again, as he always did on the first Saturday of every other month.

Walking back to his room, he took off his pyjamas and neatly folded them, placing them under his pillow and went to his wardrobe, picking out a white dress shirt and pair of slim Oxford blue trousers, because it was Thursday. At exactly quarter-past seven, he went to the kitchen and made toast, putting on butter and raspberry jam, the same breakfast he always ate on a Thursday morning with a cup of orange juice. He wiped down the counters, washed, dried and put away the dishes before heading outside.

Jimin unlocked his pristine yellow bicycle from where it sat against the wooden decking of his small home and began cycling. The sun grew brighter and brighter, rising higher in the sky as he cycled along the road beside the beach. It was quiet. He enjoyed the quiet. He was the only person who lived there and he hadn't seen another soul.

He parked his bike at the stand outside the post office sorting facility where he worked alone. He locked the bike and went inside, scanning his employee card. At exactly eight o'clock, a huge flood of parcels entered the room through a sliding door to the left. Jimin liked to make a game out of the sorting process and took pride in his ability to be fast and accurate at his job. At twelve o'clock, he stopped working and sat down to eat the lunch he had packed for himself; salad and rice balls stuffed with pork with a bottle of water, the same lunch as he always ate on a Thursday.

At precisely five o'clock in the afternoon, Jimin left work, scanning his employee card once more and began the cycle home. The daylight darkened, the sun sinking lower and lower in the sky as he cycled along the road beside the beach. It was almost nightfall when he got home and locked his bike up. He noticed a large square box on his front porch and lifted it in. His groceries had arrived for the week, as he had expected, because it was Thursday.

Placing the box on his kitchen island, he grabbed a pair of scissors from the top drawer to slice the tape across the top and opened it up. Inside were the same groceries he ordered every week: half a kilo of carrots, leeks, potatoes, onions, aubergines, courgettes and tomatoes, three fresh packs of basil, sage and rosemary, one box of twelve large eggs, half a litre of milk, three hundred grams of chicken, three hundred grams of beef, three hundred grams of pork and three cans of tuna, one small pack of curry cubes and six lemons.

Moving smoothly around the kitchen, Jimin put away everything where it belonged and left out the ingredients for his dinner that night. He was going to eat curry, because it was Thursday.

He prepared the food and by the time seven o’clock came, he sat down to his meal. He always ate dinner at seven o’clock with a glass of water. After he finished eating, he washed, dried and put everything away, wiping down the counter and neatly folding the cloth on the side of the sink. He locked his front door and went to take a shower, before drying himself off, drying his hair, brushing his teeth and putting his pyjamas on, climbing into bed and picking up the yellow diary that sat on his bed side table.

> _Thursday, 5th of July 2018,  
>  Today, I woke up at seven o’clock. I wore my white shirt and blue pants today, because it is Thursday. I ate raspberry jam on toast for breakfast and washed it down with orange juice, because it is Thursday. I was on time for work and I did my best again, finishing everything in time before I went home. The groceries arrived today and I made aubergine curry, because it is Thursday. The weather was calm and uneventful as usual._

Satisfied, Jimin closed his diary and put it back where it belonged, shifting down under his covers and turning the light off.

At seven o’clock on Friday morning, Jimin woke up. He repeated his usual morning routine, except for breakfast where he ate cheese on toast, because it was Friday and that was what he ate for breakfast on Fridays. He wore a blue shirt with terracotta fitted trousers and cycled again to work as the sun came up, cycling home again as the sun went down.

Once again, he did not encounter another soul.

As he locked up his bike for the day, Jimin retreated to the mail box at the front of his small but perfectly neat lawn to retrieve the post and went inside his home. It was Friday and so he went about pulling the ingredients for a stew out from the fridge, yelping as his finger got caught in the door hinge. Jimin hissed and immediately put his finger in his mouth, pain throbbing in the tip of his index finger. He frowned, removing his finger from between his plump lips and shook his hand.

How long had it been since he had hurt himself like that? He couldn't even remember. As he set the ingredients onto the chopping board, there was a noise. Jimin’s blue eyes snapped up, looking around his vicinity. Shaking his head, he grabbed a carrot, but the noise was louder this time, clearer. Setting his knife down, he stepped out and into the living room, listening out.

His ears twitched involuntarily as a yowl came from outside, the high pitch being something he couldn't miss. What was that? A child? An animal?

Opening his front door, Jimin stepped out and immediately jumped back inside his home.

Was that a cat??

Why was there a cat on his porch?!

Jimin flattened himself against the door as the cat meowed at him, rubbing itself against his legs before falling down on its side and rolling over. Gingerly, he bent down and held his hand out, his fingers being nudged by the small orange creature. His lips twitched up into a smile, his heart softening a bit as his fingers ran through its soft fur.

Jimin didn’t know how long he spent crouched down on his haunches petting this small, sweet cat. He felt more relaxed, smiling as the it rolled around and purred.

_“Nacho!”_

He stilled as a voice rang through the air. That couldn’t be a voice. He must be hearing things. No one else lived there — it was only him. There were no other people in that area.

So who the hell was that?

Standing up, Jimin spotted a young woman about his age standing at the bottom of his garden. She was slim and short with a pretty face and long brown hair. She wore a high collared, long sleeve floral print dress that finished at her mid-thigh. She was lovely.

“Sorry!” she called. “My cat seems to have found your porch. May I come and get him?”

Without a word, Jimin nodded and the young woman briskly walked up the garden path, the cat immediately going to her, allowing itself to be scooped up into her arms.

“Jimin?” she smiled. “I’m Chaeyoung. Son Chaeyoung. It's a bit strange to introduce myself, I mean, I see you at work every day, but we never had the chance to talk.”

“What?” he croaked in disbelief, his voice incredibly hoarse.

He turned his head away from the girl and coughed into his hand, attempting to clear his throat.

“I see you at work?” she repeated, unsure as to what he was questioning. “I work in reception. I see you every day, but you always seem like you’re in your own little bubble.”

Jimin’s head whipped round as a car drove by and suddenly the sound of cicadas grew louder and louder. Chaeyoung’s expression became apologetic as she watched him, worrying that she had upset him.

“I thought…” he trailed, swallowing hard as he watched some people stroll by on the other side of the street along the beach, cars passing here and there.

“Are you okay?” she asked warily, watching as his wide, ocean blue eyes became fixated on everything around him.

No. No, he was _not_ okay.

“Forgive me,” he said, running a hand through his hair and turning back to look at her, “I just… I thought I was... I’m sorry.”

Chaeyoung cocked her head to the side, concerned that something had happened to him. He never spoke a word to anyone at work for all the years she had seen him. The others said he was a very hard worker and kept to himself. Maybe he was just extremely shy?

“Did you eat yet?” she asked. “I live next door and I’ve just made a bunch of food, I can bring some over if you like?”

“You live next door?” he gaped, craning his neck to look over. “I’m sorry, you must excuse me, I think I need to rest.”

“I think you do.” Chaeyoung agreed. “Can I call again tomorrow?”

“Certainly.” he replied, watching as she nodded at him and waved goodbye, setting off down his lawn and turning into the house next door to his right.

Retreating to the safety of his home, Jimin continued with his usual routine, though he couldn’t stop thinking. After he showered and climbed into bed, he opened his diary to write again.

> _Friday, 6th of July 2018,_   
>  _Today, I woke up at seven o’clock. I wore my blue shirt and red pants today, because it is Friday. I ate cheese on toast for breakfast and washed it down with orange juice, because it is Friday. I was on time for work and I did my best again, finishing everything in time before I went home. I hurt my finger on the fridge door and then a cat appeared outside my home..._

He stopped writing as he glanced back at the previous entry. Slowly, he flicked through his entries for last few months and suddenly realised that every single Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday entry was the exact same.

Jimin did not fall asleep until midnight and when he woke on Saturday morning, he found that he couldn’t drag himself out of bed. He lay on his side, gazing out of his bedroom window at the birds singing on the tree branches, watching bees buzz by, spots of sunlight dancing on his tan skin as it filtered through the plant leaves outside. It was all so beautiful, everything that he laid eyes on for what felt like the first time.

How did he end up there?

How long had he lived like that?

How did this _happen?_

Stray tears dripped silently from the bridge of his nose. The more he thought about it, the more anxious he became. He truly hadn’t heard so much as a bird singing, the break of an ocean wave, another human voice or a car on the street. Except he _must_ have. It didn’t make any sense that a person could live like that.

The sound of knocking on wood caught his attention and he suddenly shot up, dragging his hand over his face to wipe away any tears. He threw his pyjamas off and picked out some clothes at random, sweats and a white t-shirt. Upon the second set of knocks, Jimin reached the door and wrenched it open, startling Chaeyoung who stood before him in a pretty yellow gingham dress, a small basket in her hand.

“I brought some lunch!” she announced, her smile fading when she saw his puffy eyes. “Are you all right?”

Jimin couldn’t help but smile back at her, his attention distracted for a moment as he looked up once more to confirm that yes, the people were still there, nature was still loud and he had a lot of catching up to do. He looked back down at Chaeyoung, who seemed to radiate sunshine.

“I’ll be all right.” he said with a small but sincere smile, stepping outside to join her on the porch. “Thank you for asking.”


End file.
